Forgotten then Found
by Hometown Wolf
Summary: Ettie Lunter was a normal girl. She had friends and a family, but then they left her. Then two years later, she is a successful artist coming to paint for a gallery in Seattle. She is stationed in La Push, where her past just can't get enough of her.
1. Memories of the Past

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight- (insert dry sob) - but I do own Ettie and her family itself. Mine! Anyways, hope you enjoy the story!**

I'm going back. I'm going back to my home, the one place I felt complete, and utterly happy. La Push. I shouldn't feel this way, but I do.

I shouldn't feel this way because _they_ left me. They left me for Sam Uley, the little ringleader of their so called 'La Push Protectors'. I bet they wear badges and matching hats.

We were all best friends. Jared, Paul, Jacob, Quil, Embry. And me. Ettie Lunter. We would eat lunch at _our_ table; hang out after school at each others house _together_. But then, Jared left school for about a week. He didn't show up to school, he wasn't answering any of our calls; we were all really worried. Then when he came back, he would hang out with Sam Uley, who we all said we would never join. He ignored us.

Then Paul, Embry, and Jacob left too, until it was just me and Quil sitting at our table, and _they_ all sat at their _new_ table.

**Flashback**

We were sitting at our table, me and Quil, sneaking glances at our old friends table. They never looked our way.

I looked over at Quil, and saw that he was just looking at his food, eating like a machine, not really looking at it. I needed to tell him now.

"Quil? I need to ask you something."

He looked up at me and asked what about.

"Just… promise me you won't leave me like _they_ did." We didn't say their names; it hurt too much.

He just smiled sadly and promised.

"Thanks Quil." I didn't notice the stares of our old friends four tables down. Neither did Quil.

**Flashback Ends**

I didn't know that would be the last time I would see Quil, until after he had turned to his old friends, rather than me. I knew he would eventually, seeing that he got angry with people quickly, his body temperature was high, and he grew about a foot in a week. I'd seen four others go through the change, both beginning and end, to know that he was next.

For weeks, I cried and prayed that this was some kind of nightmare, which just wouldn't let me wake up. I wondered what caused this in all my friends to leave me, one after one, all going to new and better people. I only came up with one explanation. It was me.

Looking back on it, I was probably the worst friend you could ever have. I bossed them around, borrowed and never returned their stuff, always wanted to hang around with them. I probably looked like a lost puppy trailing behind its old owners trail. I was annoying, stupid on so many occasions, and I just _kept coming back_.

I must have been thinking that we were forever, my friends and me, forever and always. But when I came to school on the day Quil didn't, I knew I was a loner. The one at school that had no friends, was only there for _the learning experience_. I was 16.

I moved to New York that summer, all the way across the country. I never wanted to see the place that I was forgotten, abandoned. I wanted a fresh start, a new place to call home.

I always was interested in art. Paintings, modeling, sculpting, sketching. I always liked to do anything artistic, to express myself, especially during my dark period. So when I left for New York, I finished high school and opened my own art studio. Which brings me back to La Push.

My agent, Samantha, said that a new art gallery would be opening in August of 2012. It was September of 2011 now. The gallery wanted me to show off the style of wilderness the West Coast had to offer. I wanted to do something with forests and nature at the time I was called, and it was just my luck they picked the small Indian Reservation called La Push.

So now I was heading back to my home, the one place I had everything, then it was lost in only a year. But I would be strong, and I would do my job while getting my surroundings back. I needed this, not just for the cash but for my mental health.

I was going home. Home to La Push.


	2. Starting New in the Old

Chapter 2:

When I got off the plane, I was immediately whisked to the baggage claim with fellow passengers, all with some sort of family or friend. How lucky.

I got my luggage, two large suitcases and a small backpack, and started to read the signs for a way out. I saw one that said 'Outside Transport' and started walking that way. I took in my surroundings while walking in the flow of others.

The airport really wasn't that bad; just a little run-down and in need of a few touch ups and it would be your average airport. It had yellow, almost orange walls with small, uncomfortable looking chairs on the sides of the large walkway. It was filled with kiosks of McDonalds and Burger Kings everywhere, all open for the late night travelers. There was a large digital clock above the doorway to a janitor's closet, reading 1:18 AM. The best time to travel. When the hallway came to an end, it opened up to an enormous room filled with the sounds of passengers, leaving and arriving, gathering and dropping off luggage alike. This is where I saw the revolving doors spinning towards the outside world of Port Angeles, Washington.

I walked quickly towards the doors, not wanting to hold my travel even more, and when I reached then, I entered one of the sections split with glass from the others and prepared myself for the cold soon to come.

I didn't help.

New York may have been cold, but it was nowhere near the coldness of her home state.

I ran, with all her luggage behind her to call a taxi. Luckily there was one there and ready for passengers. I knocked on the window of the driver and saw a tall, Native American man sitting there. "Excuse me?"

The man sighed and looked at me "Yes? Do you want a ride?"

"Yes, thank you. To La Push, please." I said, while going to put my suitcases in the trunk. I walked back and got in the back so I could sleep.

"Alright, that's going to be 86.99" he said while gearing up the old cab and started to maneuver around the minivans and sports cars in the parking lot. I was asleep by the time he was out of the terminal. (AN: Is that what it's called? IDK)

When I woke, it was dark in the cab and the driver had put on some jazz in the background. When I looked outside, the forests of La Push, Washington were flying by. I saw little houses on the streets passing by and told the driver my address. He turned left onto a small driveway and pulled up to my home for he next year.

It was cute; small and a shade of dark green, it almost looked like the woods that were behind the house. It had little shutters on the windows that were painted a dull blue and empty flowerboxes barely hanging onto the windowsill. It had a small yard in front of the building, mostly grass mixed with dirt, and although I couldn't see it clearly, I think I saw a dead animal out there. Lovely.

Behind it was the forest; tall, dark trees, all over twenty feet tall, they were almost touching the house with how close they were. They were silent except for the random hoot of a bird or the bark of a wolf.

I grabbed my bags out of cab and paid my bill, then started walking up the little stone pathway leading to the door. I climbed the steps and brought out the key. This was to make it official. Unlocking the door.

I grabbed the key and turned it, before pushing it open to take in the new house. I dragged in my bags as I looked around.

I had bought it full furnished, as I couldn't bring over my furniture cross country. It had charm though. The furniture brought everything together as it made it feel homey. It was filled with greens and browns, little yellow and red things here and there. It made you want to sit and enjoy the fire in the fireplace, which was dark and cold as of now. It struggled to the bedroom on the left side of the hallway, dropped my bags and plopped on the bed, ready for a night of sleep to take over for tomorrow's work day.

**Dream: **

I was with Charis, my little five year old brother. We were in a hospital, he lying on a hospital bed with wires and tubes sticking out of his arms, and me sitting worriedly in a chair next to the unconscious boy. My little brother.

Suddenly, beeps were all around me as doctors and nurses rushed around me and my little fighter, and Charis suddenly went limp. I waited for him to get stable again, but he never did. He was just _laying there_, doing nothing, _not even breathing_. But he couldn't be dead, he just couldn't, not after everything we had been through…

**End Dream**

I woke up in a cold sweat, my hair sticking to my forehead. I was lightheaded and felt queasy. I ran to the bathroom and ran water over my face, as if washing away all the pain that my brother left unintentionally.

I hadn't thought of Charis in a while, as it was easier to not to think of him rather than it be a painful reminder. I didn't want to forget him and I never would, but it was just easier than wallowing.

Charis had been three when we moved to New York to live with my aunt. I was sixteen and happy to get out of La Push, away from my problems.

We were both Irish Native American, our mother being and Irish immigrant in Washington and my father living in little La Push, the Indian Reservation. They met in a bar one night and instantly hit it off. They were 23 and a year later after they got married, they had me, Ettie Lunter, named after my Grandmother Ettie in Ireland. She had died two years before my birth.

Rather than having the usual black straight hair of La Push, I had red curly locks and russet colored skin with bright blue eyes.

When I was twelve, my parents had another baby, this one a boy, named Charis after my Grandfather Charis, who had died eight years before my birth. He was the same as me, red curly locks and deep tanned skin, but he had our fathers deep milk chocolate eyes.

Two years later, my parents died in a car crash. They were hit by a semi truck and killed instantly. Charis and I moved in with my fathers brother, Michael, and lived there a year before we moved to New York. I only told my uncle of my problems at school, and so he knew the reason I was leaving. I didn't get any calls from him or others; I had expected them not to care.

Then, when were living with our Aunt Sophie, my dad's sister, we got a call from our doctor. He said that Charis had gotten cancer. He was going to die within a matter of months.

He was fighting, all of a year, he had to give up. I gave him permission to be with Mommy and Daddy up in the sky, and he went to. On November 19, 2010 he died. I had his body moved to La Push to be buried with our parents, and he's been resting there for almost a year now.

I don't talk about it now, except with close family, so only Aunt Sophia and Uncle Michael know that he's died. I asked them not to spread word about it.

I was sleeping by the time I had finished thinking about it.

The next morning was bright and sunny, perfect for paintings of early morning sunrises and sparkling tide pools. I changed into a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a tie-dyed shirt, then pulling on my pair of converse and a red and green striped hat for hiking. I packed a bag with my camera, sunglasses for later, and a granola bar for breakfast when I'm hungry. It was nine o' clock and I was heading out to walk around the village and egt plans.

Plans are what Samantha and I call my prototypes of my paintings, or photographs of the scene I am going to paint or make. If I have a picture, it's easier to make into beautiful art.

I didn't have a car, but that was okay as long as I had my feet. Walking always made me feel better anyways.

I left the house and started walking towards the left, near the center of town, trying to find a house or trail to lead me to my masterpiece.

I had just walked about a mile when I came across a little house on the side of the road. It was a tad bigger than mine, and it had a huge yard across it. It was white with a large red door as if someone who lived here was gigantic. It was perfect for my painting. A small home of La Push.

I ran up the steps and knocked on the door. I heard loud laughing and sounds of food being eaten. I heard loud footsteps and the door was opened by a huge Native American boy with short cropped hair and deep brown eyes. He looked at me strangely.

"Hi, I was wondering if maybe I could take a few pictures of your home?" I asked, trying not to sound stupid while asking if you film a random persons house.

"Excuse me?" he said, and his voice was deep and husky. It made me frightened.

"Sorry, but I'm an artist and I was sent here to get pictures of nature in action so I can paint them later. I saw your house while I was walking and thought it looked perfect for a painting. So can I?" _This was really a stupid decision, Ettie _I thought as he just looked at me. Then he finally said, very matter-of-factly,

"You're Ettie Lunter."


	3. Meeting Again

Chapter 3:

"_You're Ettie Lunter."_

It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. Really, what set your brain off, the red hair or the bag that said 'Property of Ettie Lunter'?

But I didn't say that, because this was the perfect house for my painting. So I said,

"Yeah. So what?"

He just looked at me, and then suddenly I was inside the house and was being towed towards a room on the far side of a hallway. The hall was lined with pictures of really tall, buff guys, all shirtless and hanging around the house or others. My feet made a scraping sound as it rubbed against the carpeted floor. The laughter had long since died down after the man had said my name.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I just wanted to get a photo of your house!" I tried to rip my arm out of his iron grip, but it looked as if he didn't even notice.

"You need to see some people here. It's important." He said as we entered a living room filled with the massive guys in the pictures. There were eight of them in total, not counting the one who had answered the door. They all were shirtless and were over six feet tall each. Each one of them had a six pack, and three of them had girls sitting on their laps. One was holding a five year old.

"What the fuck do mean I have to see these people?" I asked, trying to have him loosen his grip more. It wasn't working. "Can you loosen your grip?"

He let go and I immediately turned to the others, wondering what the hell they must have been drinking to get this big.

"It's a genetic thing." One boy said. He was staring at me with this weird expression, like he had just seen the sun for the first time. His eyes were holding so many emotions that I couldn't pick just one out. Was it Love? Possessiveness? Caring? I didn't know.

"Shit, did I say that out loud?" But then another thought came to mind, "Not that you guys aren't nice by your looks and everything, but I really just anted to photograph your home, then go on my way. I promise you r name will be on the description of the painting, if you want, but really, I don't do introductions very well." I had said that all in one breath, so that I was breathing a little ruggedly when I finally finished.

The one who had dragged me here laughed and said "We don't care if you add our names in or not. I just ant to introduce you to your old friends." _You can't mean…_ But he did.

"This is Jared, Paul, Jacob. Quil, Seth, Leah, Rachel, Kim, Collin, Brady, Claire, and Embry." As he said each name, he would point to the person that the name belonged to, and I would internally flinch every time _their_ names came.

None of them looked older. They all looked different, but they looked as if they had just stepped out of a bodybuilders club rather than any normal person. They all short dark hair, the hair of La Push, and dark brown eyes. The girls all had long hair, most having it black or a dark brown, Claire, the five year old, having wavy blonde. They each had different colored yes, Kim having beautiful brown eyes, Leah with a set of pure silver, Claire was a blue eyed baby, and Rachel having a dark green, almost matching the forest trees.

"Hi. Long time no see, eh?" I hid my sense of hurt and anger, because the looks they gave me were ones of happiness and caring. Yeah right.

I turned to the one who had dragged me, holding out my hand, and asked "This your house?" it sounded rude, but I didn't really care at this point.

As he took it he said, "Yeah, this is mine and my wives house. I'm Sam Uley."

The dreaded Sam Uley, the one person I wished I didn't run into, and he has the perfect house. That just reeks of crappy karma.

"Wonderful to meet you all. Now, before it rains, I want to get pictures. I live about a mile up and I want to be home before I get drenched." I tried to be as polite as possible, and it must have been good, because he showed me to the door. Before it was fully closed I asked,

"Why did you want me to meet them again? We're not friends anymore, so there really isn't a point." I was simply curious and wanted to know why I was suddenly interesting to my old friends.

"They think about you all the time, they really are sorry."

To think, they really are just that devious. Trying to make me think that they actually care for me. That's really funny.

"I think I got that they don't want to be my friend years ago, but right now is not really the time for lying." I didn't tell anybody about Charis dieing. I didn't want sympathy from people that just hurt him or me, like the La Push Gang.

With that said, I walked to a tree in front of the house and started to take pictures, of the tree and the house, trying to ignore the looks of the people on the porch watching me.

Just as I was about to say goodbye and thank you, I saw a bird sitting in the tree. I quickly took a crouching position, and then just as it was about to take flight, I clicked the button on the camera, so that when I looked back at the camera, I saw a great white bird, with graying wings and a large beak, about to take flight from a great oak tree.

This is one of the reasons that I loved La Push. The feel of nature all around you, so much that it makes you feel almost as if you are a tree in the forest, always there and standing high and mighty against all other forest creatures.

Thinking about that, I turned around and saw all of the people from inside the house outside on the porch, watching me with loving smiles.

"Thanks for letting me film your home. I'll be sure to mention your names in the description. I'm just going to start home now. I have a long way."

"Wait!" a voice said from the surrounding group. It was Embry. He had been the one staring at me in almost a creepy way, and he flew out of the back of the group so fast he almost fell on me. While he was trying to balance himself, I took a look at him.

He was tall, of course, about six feet nine inches, and had a six pack like the others. He had longer hair than others, but it was still short. It was a deep brown almost black, with an almost blue tinge to it. He had deep chocolate eyes that showed again too much emotion, so I could only pick out a few. Lots were caring, love, and happiness. About what I didn't know, but I wasn't about to find out.

When I looked back at hi face, he was balanced and looking at me. He had a slight smirk on his face, from catching me checking him out, but he stared straight in my eyes the entire time.

"I was wondering, were having this bonfire on Saturday, and maybe you come with me." He had so much nervousness in his voice, that I instantly wanted to take pity on him and come because he just looked so desperate, but I remembered that he left me, and I held back doing that.

"Sorry. I don't think that will work." I tried to show sincere sadness, and surprisingly it came out easily, as if I was really sad that I was not able to come.

"Oh, well maybe we can do something later this week? I've really missed you, you know." There was silence as I digested this.

So, he missed me? Probably, this is some kind of joke that was meant to trick me into believing that he actually cared, then trip me from behind and laugh at me.

"This isn't some funny joke, Embry. I don't want to go on a date with you just to have you laugh at me for believing you actually cared. So no thanks."

And with that I left Embry and his pack of friends, and I walked down the driveway towards home.

All the while feeling as if something was ripped form me.


End file.
